Slipping Away
by GuidexYouxHome
Summary: With little hope of Jim's memory returning, Melinda is ready to give up on everything she's ever believed in, and just when a seemingly disturbed ghost needs her most. May be slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, being bored, I've decided to try a bit of Ghost Whisperer fanfiction. If y'all like this, please review, 'cause I'm in desperate need of motivation xD.**

**Also, I don't own the show or any part of it. If I did, Jim wouldn't be dead ..**

"Melinda?"

A familiar voice called her name, but the brunette hardly blinked. She was staring blankly out the window of her antique shop, and without realizing it her gaze had fixed on a twenty-something, shaggy-haired, and admittedly cute guy. He'd been talking on his cell phone moments earlier, but as if feeling her gaze upon him, had turned towards her a few seconds ago.

"_Melinda_. If you keep staring at that guy like that, you're gonna give him the wrong idea." Delia Banks, her best friend, spoke again.

Melinda blinked several times, only just now realizing what she had been doing. Embarrassed, she snapped her gaze away, scowling. Beside her, Delia grinned.

"Huh. What would Sam think?"

"Delia." Melinda warned, busying herself by re-arranging the items on the back shelf.

"What?" Delia's eyes widened, her tone teasing. "Just saying—"

"You know, I don't think he'd give a damn." She blurted suddenly. She then paused. She hadn't really meant to speak her thoughts aloud like that, but now she didn't seem to be able to stop. "He doesn't remember. Anything, Delia. And he doesn't feel anything for me, and it hurts…" Melinda trailed off painfully. "…It just…_hurts_."

Delia watched her uncomfortably. She'd never been good at the whole comforting thing, but right now she seemed to be giving it her best shot. "Come on, you don't really believe that." She stated quietly.

Melinda didn't respond. In truth, she wasn't sure what she believed anymore. There were days when she swore she was about to get the man she'd loved back, but then there were others when Jim…_Sam_ didn't connect with her at all. And really, she wasn't sure which she preferred. It tore her heart in two to see him stare at her blankly when she would try to prompt his memory, but if there came one more day when he came so close to remembering only to pull back, Melinda didn't think she'd be able to take it.

Today had been one of those days. She'd been walking to work, coffee in hand, intending to open early. Yeah. That had gone well.

XX

_A scream pierced the early morning air. There weren't many people around, but the few that walked the streets shared the same general reaction. Freeze momentarily, then scramble towards the sound all at once._

_Melinda had been closest. The scream had come from a nearby alley, and at first her mind had gone completely blank in shock. Grandview didn't exactly have a high crime rate, after all. None the less, she whipped around and hurried back toward the alley where a small crowd had already gathered._

_The scream had come not from the victim, but from an onlooker who had apparently gotten there before anyone else._

_A blonde girl who looked about eighteen, maybe a bit older, was slumped on the ground. She did not move, didn't seem to even be breathing. No less than six feet away stood a stunned-looking man, pointing a gun shakily at where Melinda guessed the girl had just stood._

_Before anyone else could speak, scream, run, the man went incredibly pale. "I…I didn't shoot…"_

_  
And then Melinda realized that indeed, no trace of blood stained the ground. She didn't know what to think._

_The cops had been called, and an ambulance was also on its way. Wouldn't take long, seeing as Grandview was a very small town. But Melinda couldn't help holding her breath in anticipation. There was no need to be jumpy…the girl had probably just fainted out of fright. But something was wrong. _Very _wrong. She could feel it, and she found herself expecting to be face to face with the girl's ghost at any moment._

"_Excuse me…please…I know CPR!" An all-too-familiar voice sounded from behind her. Sure enough, Sam came pushing his way through the crowd. They all watched as he knelt down beside the blonde, and got to work._

'It's too late.' _Melinda thought miserably, nearly turning away. But then…with a spluttering bout of coughing, as if she'd just nearly drowned, the girl jerked awake. She struggled violently to sit up, only to be pushed back down by Sam._

"_Hey, hold on a sec. The ambulance will be here soon." He told her soothingly. "What's your name?"_

_But the girl seemed unable, or unwilling, to speak. She just stared on ahead blankly, frozen._

_The man with the gun had long since dropped it, and Melinda watched as he was taken in by the cops moments later. The ambulance soon followed, taking the seemingly lethargic girl away in a stretcher. The crowd soon dispersed, muttering as they did so, until only Sam and Melinda were left._

_Sam was staring blankly after the ambulance, and Melinda approached him cautiously._

"_You okay?" She asked softly._

_Slowly, Sam turned to look at her. His expression was one of confusion. "I…I never learned CPR."_

_In that moment, Melinda felt a surge of hope. Maybe Sam didn't know CPR, but Jim did. Maybe her husband's spirit was fighting its way to the surface. She bit her lip, and met his gaze steadily._

_As quickly as he had pondered it, Sam shrugged it off with a nervous grin. "Instinct, I guess. Right?"_

_Her heart dropped. "Right…instinct."_

XX

Melinda closed her eyes and swayed slightly as the memory played again and again in her head.

In an attempt to lighten the mood and shatter the awkward silence, Delia spoke again. "Hey, look. I think your not-so-secret admirer's gonna come in. If only all guys were that forward." She joked.

Sure enough, the bell above the door jingled, and Cell-Phone-Guy sleazed his way inside. Melinda didn't even turn around. He kept right on coming, approaching the counter and opening his mouth to speak.

"Hey—"

The guy barely got the first word out before the tell-tale bell above the door rang again, a bit more violently this time. Before Melinda could react, in walked a very shaken looking Sam.

"Melinda."

"Sam…hi." Melinda's attention was completely focused on him now, and behind her Delia cast an amused look at the now offended-looking Cell-Phone-Guy. "What's up?" Melinda prompted.

Sam frowned. "The girl we found today, her name's Elsie Peterson. I went to see how she was doing, and--"

"Yeah?" Melinda raised her eyebrows expectantly. "She's okay, right?" Last she'd seen, they were pumping oxygen into the girl, but they'd told her that she'd be okay.

"Not exactly." Sam grimaced. "She's dead."

**So yeah, there you have it. Kind of predictable xD. But it gets better. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I just wanted to say, thank you guys for your AWESOME reviews! I really appreciate 'em! ^^ Aaaand as usual, I own nothing. Except Elsie, seeing as she's an OC. Alrighty, enjoy chapter two!**

XX

**Eighteen Year-Old Dancer Dead**

_Elsie Peterson, 18, died yesterday afternoon only hours after checking in to Mercy Hospital. Officials say that the cause of death was a fairly advanced stage of Tuberculosis. Peterson's treatments, the doctors explained, had little to no effect over the past few months. Survived by her father, Miles Peterson, who declined to comment._

_The same day, Lucas Reynolds, 34, was arrested for attempted armed robbery. Reynolds saw Peterson collapse…_

"Doesn't say much," Melinda commented briefly, staring down at the short article in the paper. Still, in Grandview, news was news, and there wasn't much of it. She rolled the paper up and discarded it. "Just that she died of Tuberculosis because her treatment wasn't working."

"Tuberculosis?" Delia replied, squinting slightly. "That's some kind of lung infection, right?"

Melinda turned away, trying not to think about this too much. "A serious one, apparently." She replied.

A short silence followed. Delia picked up the paper to read the article for herself. "So, are you going to talk to her dad?" She questioned.

Melinda merely shrugged. "I don't see why I should." She stated flatly. Her friend stared at her, clearly bewildered by her uncharacteristic behavior.

"You…don't?"

"What's to say she hasn't moved on by now? Unless her ghost shows herself, there's nothing I can do." Melinda's tone was still dull and uninterested, not at all determined as it usually was when it came to supernatural matters. She couldn't get her mind off of Sam, and she wasn't aware of how much this showed.

Delia's concerned frown deepened. "Right." She replied warily. "Melinda, I think you need a break. Go home and get some rest."

Slightly startled, Melinda looked up at her. "What?"

"Seriously. Ned won't be getting home until late anyways; I can close up for you."

Melinda shook her head firmly. "No, Delia, that's okay." She declined, though she was aware of the weariness that seeped through her voice as she spoke. Whatever her own personal problems were, she couldn't put off her responsibilities.

"Look, I know it's been a rough couple of days, and you should have some time to think things over." Delia insisted. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

Melinda sighed, her attention split between the conversation and the painful headache that had been threatening to overtake her since she'd gotten up that morning. She didn't want to go home, didn't want to wallow in the grief that had been lurking in the back of her mind, pushed away by hope when Jim had possessed Sam's body. But she also didn't want to deal with ghosts, or anything, really. It was all too much. This wasn't who she was; wasn't who she wanted to be. Maybe if she got a little extra sleep tonight, she'd feel better in the morning.

"Alright," She agreed reluctantly. "Thanks, Delia."

Delia nodded a reply, watching sadly as her friend picked up her purse and headed outside.

XX

"Hmm." Melinda looked around the living room, her mouth twisted in an indecisive little scowl. _Which side of the room would the sofa look best on?_

She'd come home without so much as a glance towards the garage, but the minute she had stepped into the living room, the placement of the furniture had suddenly seemed all wrong. It all had to be changed. And as she proceeded, it occurred to her that she wasn't even sure _why _she thought this, just that it felt good to be _doing _something. Melinda didn't want to turn into the kind of girl who went home and sobbed every night, but if she didn't keep herself busy, that was exactly what she was going to become.

No, the sofa definitely couldn't stay there. What had she been thinking? And the placement of the TV was just wrong. And, now that she thought about it, repainting the whole room didn't seem like a bad idea.

_Jim_ had painted this room. Melinda closed her eyes and sat down on the couch.

She might have stayed like that for a good while longer. Forever? Right then, it seemed pretty plausible. But, as always, life seemed determined to get in her way,

Well…not life, exactly.

The lights flickered suddenly, and as if on cue, Melinda jolted up. Her eyes narrowed, searching the room suspiciously, though fear of what she might find had left long ago. She was used to this. There'd even times (like when Andrea died) that she'd tried to bury her emotions by helping spirit after spirit into the light. But right now, she was definitely not in the mood.

She did not move from her rigid position on the sofa, merely watching and waiting with a coolness that was very unlike her.

"If you have something to say, show yourself. No games." She announced frostily to the seemingly empty room.

No more invitation than that was needed. Within seconds, a familiar form flickered into the doorway. Melinda hadn't expected to recognize the ghost. Of course, she hadn't given it much thought either way, but even so. However, there was no mistaking the slight form and blonde hair. Melinda matched it almost instantly to the picture in the newspaper, and the girl who'd collapsed on the ground yesterday.

"Elsie." It wasn't a question, though there was a trace of surprise in her voice.

Elsie blinked at her. "You know my name?" She hesitated for a moment, and then frowned. "Figures. They said you could…could help me. But I don't see how."

Melinda suppressed a groan. She'd been through this many times, and normally it was well worth the reward of helping the spirit and the people around them; of bringing them together. But now things were different. Well, she'd play along, if only out of instinct. "If you haven't noticed," she stated dryly. "I'm the only one who can see you. So there's kind of an advantage of having me around. You're dead, Elsie." That had been blunt, maybe too much so, and she was now regretting it slightly.

But Elsie hadn't flinched, though she seemed irked. "Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out." She snapped defensively. "You can't help me. Because I don't need _you _to see me. I need him to see me…that's all I've ever wanted." The ghost clenched her jaw. "I never realized how stupid that was."

Now, on top of everything, Melinda was confused. It really wasn't improving her mood. Still, she couldn't help but press further. "Who? Your dad?" She asked uncertainly.

Elsie didn't reply immediately. Instead, she took a step into the room, and gazed out the window. "That's all I ever wanted." She repeated, almost too softly for Melinda to hear.

Melinda fidgeted, unsure of what to say and feeling rather selfish for not caring as much as she should have. "Well," she tried, "Maybe we could—"

"But instead," Elsie whipped around to face her, "He did _this _to me." The lights flickered again, more violently this time, and Melinda really wasn't up for spending the rest of the evening sitting in the dark.

"Okay, calm down." She murmured, casting an anxious glance around the room. "I know it's hard, and I know you feel like you need someone to blame, but your father didn't do anything to you. Don't you remember being sick?"

Elsie stared at the ground. She nodded miserably.

"Okay," Melinda said again, eyeing the ghost warily. Elsie knew she was dead, and could remember how she had died. So what was the problem? "You…you didn't react to the treatments they were giving you." She went on cautiously.

The blonde snapped her head up, her eyes blazing. She laughed a cold, bitter, humorless laugh. "That's an interesting take on things." She hissed.

Melinda stared at her. Despite her earlier reluctance, she could slowly feel herself being pulled into this. "Wait…what do you mean? The doctors—" But before she could finish, Elsie vanished. Just like that.

"Elsie!" She called sharply into the empty room. There was no response. Feeling a surge of frustration that she really couldn't handle right now, Melinda sunk back down onto the couch.

"That's it," She whispered, "I'm done."


End file.
